18 posts tagged “main course”
There's nothing like some comfort food when you're feeling blue. Which is why it was a good thing we had plenty of oven fried chicken leftover after our little Cubs playoffs party last Saturday.
I have been deluged with squash from our farm share lately, and the game seemed like a good excuse to whip up a big batch of butternut mac and cheese. And of course we had to have coleslaw. And what goes with coleslaw and mac and cheese better than fried chicken? (Answer: possibly barbecued pork. But I didn't think I could talk Jon into spending all day smoking pork so chicken would have to do.)
Since I'm still pretty "chicken" (GET IT???) to go all out and deep fat fry, and trying to at least put a cap on, if not reduce, the newlywed weight gain, I decided to go with the oven baked version. I turned to my trusty "The New Best Recipe" cookbook from the folks at Cook's Illustrated. Their recipe has 3 big secrets:
- Use skinless chicken legs
- Brine the chicken in seasoned buttermilk
- Melba toast crumbs for the base of the coating.
Aside from that annoyance, though, the recipe was terrific. The chicken was tender, juicy and very flavorful, and the coating was tasty, crispy, and a beautiful nutty brown color. And this recipe has only about 200 calories and 10 grams of fat per chicken thigh, which is not health food by any means, but looks pretty good compared with 330 calories and 24 grams of fat for a piece of good ol' Kentucky Fried.
Now let's hope the Bears start doing better or I may have to resort to the deep fat fryer.
Oven Fried Chicken
adapted from The New Best Recipe
Ingredients:
1/2 cup salt
1/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons paprika
1 head garlic, cloves separated
3 bay leaves, crumbled
7 cups lowfat buttermilk
8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1/4 cup vegetable oil
5 ounces garlic flavored melba toast (about 1 box)
2 large eggs
1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon dried thyme
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Instructions:
In a gallon-size zipper lock plastic bag, combine the 1/2 cup salt, sugar, paprika, garlic cloves, and bay leaves. With a flat, heavy object, smash the garlic into the salt and spice mixture thoroughly. Pour the mixture into a large nonreactive bowl, stockpot, or Dutch oven. Add the buttermilk and stir until the salt is completely dissolved. Immerse the chicken in the brine and refrigerate until fully seasoned, 2 to 3 hours.
Remove the chicken from the brine and shake off the excess; place the chicken pieces in a single layer on a large wire rack set over a rimmed baking sheet. Refrigerate uncovered for 2 hours. (After 2 hours, the chicken can be covered with plastic wrap and refrigerated up to 6 hours longer.)
Adjust an oven rack to the upper-middle position and heat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil and set a large wire rack over the pan.
In a food processor, pulse the melba toast until the mixture resembles coarse sand with some pebble sized pieces. Move crumbs to a shallow dish or pie plate and and drizzle the vegetable oil over them; toss well to coat.
In a second shallow dish or pie plate, mix the eggs, mustard, thyme, 3/4 teaspoon salt, pepper, oregano, and cayenne pepper with a fork.
Working with one piece at a time, coat the chicken on both sides with the egg mixture. Set the chicken in the melba crumbs, sprinkle the crumbs over the chicken and press to coat. Turn the chicken over and repeat on the other side. Gently shake off the excess and place the chicken on the rack in the pan. Bake until the chicken is a deep nutty brown and the juices run clear, about 40 minutes.
Serves 4 (or 8 with a hearty side of mac and cheese)
I have trouble playing nice in the kitchen.
When Jon cooks dinner, he frequently has to banish me from the room because I just can't seem to stop myself from giving helpful "suggestions," and "constructive" criticism, which understandably drives him completely crazy.
In my defense, Jon has a habit of not reading instructions, whether they be for putting together an IKEA bookshelf, making cinnamon rolls, or operating machinery. He has that weird male thing of taking a sense of pride in innately knowing how to do something he has never attempted before. Unfortunately that sense is not always so innate as one hopes.
We've even had flare-ups over the grill I got him for his birthday last year (no pun intended). I had noticed Jon's admiration of his uncle, who has a full scale smoker in his backyard in Evanston, and takes great pride in his mad barbecue skillz. My intention was to give Jon a place where he could be master of the realm, cooking-wise. But when our burgers would take forever to cook because all the briquettes were piled on one side of the grate when it says RIGHT ON THE BAG OF CHARCOAL that you're supposed to spread out the coals before cooking if you want direct heat, I couldn't keep my fat trap shut. Yes, I admit it here on the internet: I am a controlling, annoying nag. But honestly, if he would just read those darn directions...
The only thing that matches the intensity of boys' hatred of directions is the intensity of their love of electronic gadgets and watching videos on the internet, and this was our saving grace. Before our latest cooperative culinary endeavor, I went out and bought a fancy instant-read meat thermometer (something I'd been wanting for a while actually), and Jon found this video on proper grilling techniques which we watched together.
Determined once and for all not to interfere, I handed him the pork I'd been marinating in the fridge all day, and went inside to make couscous.
Soon, though, I longed to be having a cocktail on the back porch, chatting amiably with my husband. This was what I have always dreamed of when I imagined cooking with a partner. Cocktails, friendly banter, and handing each other utensils or ingredients as we make a delicious meal together. Was this too much to ask? I headed outside with my rum and ginger ale and an onion to chop for salad. And guess what?
We had our best night cooking together ever. We chatted, drained our cocktails, I made salad and prepared asparagus for the grill, Jon read me Red Sox anecdotes from his new library book and made more cocktails in between supervising the meat and vegetables on the grill, and in the end I didn't worry one bit about the food. And naturally, this turned out to be the best pork that we've ever had, on the grill or elsewhere. It was crispy on the outside, but inside the meat was juicy and soft as butter, and the sauce was sweet, tangy and spicy, a perfect accompaniment. I can't wait to make it together again.
Grilled Pork Tenderloin with Mango-Soy-Ginger Marinade
Ingredients:
1 medium size onion, finely chopped
2 Tablespoons pure olive oil
3/4 cup dry white wine or dry vermouth
3 Tablespoons soy sauce
1 Tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 Tablespoon fresh grated ginger
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup mango chutney
1 12-16 oz. pork tenderloin
Instructions:
Heat oil until shimmering and then add onions. Turn heat to low and cook onions until very tender, about 10 minutes. Let cool 5 minutes.
In a medium size bowl, combine the cooked onions and the rest of the ingredients except for the pork. Stir well to combine and then pour into a ziploc bag. Put the pork tenderloin in the bag and seal. Shake well to thoroughly coat the pork. Allow pork to marinate for at least six hours, or up to 24 hours.
About 45 minutes before dinnertime, start your grill. When the coals reach medium heat (when you can just stand to hold your hand over the grill for about 5 seconds), put the pork on the grill. Turn frequently, cooking until the pork reaches an internal temperature of 140F, about 35 minutes.
Meanwhile, take the remaining marinade and heat it in a saucepan on the stove. (Or have your cooking partner do this, while you hang out by the grill, sipping your cocktail and turning the meat.) Bring the sauce to a full boil until it is reduced to a nice thick sauce. Pour it into a little bowl and set aside.
When the pork is ready, remove from grill and let it sit. The temperature of the meat will continue to rise for the first few minutes, and then it will begin to cool and the juices will absorb back into the tissues. After about 10 minutes, when the meat has begun to cool a little, carve into 1/2 inch thick slices and fan 4-5 slices on each plate. Pour the carving juices into your bowl of sauce, swirl to combine, and spoon the sauce over the pork. Serve the bowl of sauce at the table because you will probably want more. It tastes good on grilled asparagus and couscous too!
Serves 2-3
I'm not the only one who finds inspiration in limited ingredients either. The classic Caesar salad was invented late one night in 1924 at Caesar Cardini's restaurant in Tijuana, when the chef found himself with a dining room full of people to feed and nothing but romaine lettuce, parmesan cheese, and eggs left in his ice box. He grabbed a few lemons, some garlic, a bottle of worcestershire sauce and some stale bread, and made history.
Since Jon entered my life (and kitchen), he always restocks the fridge before we really get down to the dregs of the pantry that inspired my experiments as a single girl. But every once in a while I end up staring at some empty shelves in the fridge and that old stubborn twinkle comes into my eye.
The other night I was in the mood for something light and vegetabley, but we were out of lettuce and the only vegetables we had were some radishes, a few wilted scallions, some frozen peas, and some green beans in vinaigrette left over from Salade Nicoise the night before. Though nothing but the scallions was even vaguely Asian, for some reason my mind went to this Asian rice salad in one of my cookbooks. I had never made it before, but it sounded like just the thing for a light spring meal. Not only was it adaptable to my paltry vegetable selection, but it was pretty fast. Threw some rice in the rice cooker, sliced up my vegetables, and whipped together a quick sesame-ginger vinaigrette.
I was so pleased with my rice salad that this weekend I decided to try it with some more of the vegetables suggested by the original recipe. They were out of snow peas at the Sunflower Market, and I decided I liked my substitution of radishes better than the recommended water chestnuts. But the red pepper, shitake mushrooms, and bamboo shoots were excellent additions to my pantry challenge version. I love green beans, so I threw in more of them to make up for the lack of snow peas. The results were delicious, and tasted great warm, at room temperature, or cold from the fridge the next day. I sense a new weeknight favorite.
Asian-Inspired Rice Salad
adapted from Rice by Mary Goodbody
Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups medium grain white rice, preferably Asian-style
4 tablespoons sesame oil
2 teaspoons fresh ginger, peeled and grated
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon hot pepper flakes
2 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 cup snow peas or green beans
2 cups coarsely chopped shiitake mushrooms
1/2 cup canned sliced bamboo shoots, drained and rinsed.
juice of 1 1/2 lemons (about 1/4 cup)
1/2 teaspoon Sriracha chili sauce or other Asian chili or hot sauce
3 scallions, thinly sliced
4 large radishes, cut into 1/4 inch thick wedges.
1 medium size red bell pepper, cored, seeded and diced
Instructions:
Cook the rice, either in a rice cooker or your favorite stovetop method.
Prepare the green beans or snow peas for cooking by cutting off stems and pointy ends, then cut into 1-inch pieces. Blanch them in boiling water or steam them for 4 minutes, then drain and rinse under cold water until they reach lukewarm temperature.
In a small, non-reactive skillet, heat 2 tablespoons sesame oil over medium high heat. Add half the grated ginger and half the minced garlic and stir for about 1 minute, or until aromatic. Add the mushrooms, salt, pepper, and hot pepper flakes, and cook, stirring frequently, for 3 to 4 minutes.
Add soy sauce and 1 tablespoon rice vinegar and stir well. Cook another minute or so, then add the blanched green beans/snow peas and the drained bamboo shoots. Stir well to coat and remove from heat.
Combine the lemon juice, Sriracha chili sauce, and the remaining rice vinegar, ginger and garlic in a small bowl. Stir well to combine, then gradually whisk in the remaining 2 tablespoons sesame oil. Toss the scallions in the dressing and stir well.
When the rice is cooked, fluff with a fork and stir in the radishes, red pepper, and mushroom/green bean/bamboo shoot mixture and mix well. Add the scallion dressing and toss to coat.
Cover and refrigerate for up to an hour. Serve slightly chilled. (Or serve immediately if you're impatient for dinner!)
Serves 4
They had travelled to Europe many times before the wedding, eating snails in Paris and getting thrown out of pensions in Hungary, not to mention several work related European trips they managed to finagle their way into. They even took a family vacation there, dragging my brother and my sulky 13 year-old self along the Rhine where my dad was stationed in the air force.
But Germany, Hungary, and even Paris are not the French Riviera. My sister had settled there after falling in love with Eric, a native of the region, and after living in Nice for several years, she was used to its charms. But my parents were not. The breathtaking ocean views, the thrillingly swerving cliffside roads, the warm, boisterous people, and ohhhhh, the food. It made quite an impression.
The wedding was going to be the day after Christmas, so we arrived on Christmas Eve. And Christmas Eve dinner is quite a meal in Nice, let me tell you. Like most European countries, dinner there is a late evening affair. We started sometime after eight with a course of oysters on the half shell, followed by smoked salmon toasts, sprinkled elegantly with lemon. A dizzying array of dishes followed, and we didn't stop eating until almost midnight. As a teenager, I suffered from the unfortunate jetlag symptom of loss of appetite. Well - let me amend that. I never really lose my appetite. But I used to get a low-grade nausea from jet lag that made it unpleasant to eat much at a time, no matter how delicious it tasted. So after the first few courses, it all became a blur. I remember later in the evening tasting the best green beans I've ever had, sauteed with a generous amount of garlic by Julie's mother-in-law.
The next night we had American-style Christmas dinner, with the turkey and the mashed potatoes and the pie, the whole shebang.
And then there was the wedding supper. This was truly the wedding meal beyond all weddings I've ever tasted. There were about 17 different courses, including a pastry buffet. As I sat at the head table with the rest of the wedding party, course after course after course was served up. Still suffering from that stupid jet lag, it was all I could do to eat a tiny bit of each one. I remember I nearly burst into tears when after what seemed like a dozen courses, they set down a puff pastry filled with mussels and seafood. It was to die for. I think I had one bite.
We stayed another week after the wedding, and on New Year's Eve, we went to a party at the house of some of Eric's family friends. This was pretty much the most awesome New Year's party I've ever attended. There were guests of all ages, from my 15 year old brother, getting drunk on champagne, to this tiny 95 year old lady who didn't speak a word of English but who would not stop trying to drag my sister Cyndy onto the dance floor. They played these kooky French calypso records and people danced literally all night long. And at around 3am, the cooks came out with these heaping bowls of pasta with garlic and olive oil - just what was needed to revive the party guests and keep them dancing until sunrise.
Then next day we had a huge New Year's Day luncheon, with a roast and scrumptious meatballs made by the Italian boyfriend of Eric's grandmother.
My parents had always been fans of French and Italian food, but when we got home there was a definite shift in their dinner routine. Previously dinner had been a sixish affair, but now they were eating later and later. And pasta began playing a much bigger role in the meal rotation. My dad began making his own versions of some of the foods we had eaten in the south of France.
One I remember him making was this dish, pissaladiere. Which, can I just say, is one of the most unsavory names for a food. My dad, ever the punster, liked to call it "Nice Pizza." A pretty apt name, actually, since this dish is related to pizza. But instead of topping it with tomatoes, or garlic and herbs, the way the Italians do, the French use a heap of sweet, melty carmelized onions, and then break through the sweetness with some nice salty anchovies and tart olives.
My dad would usually make this using a storebought Boboli crust, but since I was gearing up to try baking bread, I decided to try and make my own pizza dough.
Now some people would have you think that to make pizza from scratch you need a pizza stone or some fancy oven tiles or bricks or something. But I'm here to tell you it's not so. Ordinarily I would have been scared off making pizza by these requirements. But fortunately I didn't read far enough in the recipe to realize I needed those things until I had already made the dough. So I just preheated my cookie sheet, flung the shaped dough on it, and you know what, it turned out just great. Crispy outside, chewy inside, and nice and golden, spotted with brown. And that French topping is just to die for. Due to my lollygagging in the kitchen, I served this to my husband in true Nice fashion: at 9:00pm.
Nice Pizza
Dough recipe adapted from Gourmet Magazine, shaping tips from The New Best Recipe
Ingredients:
Dough:
3/4 cup warm water (105°-115°F.)
1 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour plus more for dusting
1 teaspoon salt
Olive oil for oiling bowl
Topping:
5 large yellow onions
2 Tablespoons butter
2 Tablespoons olive oil, plus more for brushing on the dough
12-16 anchovy fillets
12-16 pitted black olives - kalamata or other European variety (NOT those canned California black olives)
Instructions:
In a measuring cup stir together water and yeast until yeast is dissolved.
In a large bowl whisk together flour and salt and add yeast mixture, stirring until a soft dough forms. On a lightly floured surface knead dough until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes.
Oil a large bowl with olive oil and transfer dough to bowl, turning to coat. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours.
On a lightly floured surface flatten dough with your hands. (Dough may be made 1 day ahead to this point. Wrap loosely in plastic wrap and chill in a small sealable plastic bag. Return dough to room temperature before proceeding.) Dust top of ball with flour and cover with an inverted bowl large enough to allow dough to expand. Let dough rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.
While the dough is rising, thinly slice onions. Melt butter and olive oil in a large frying pan. When foam subsides, add onions to pan, stirring gently to coat in oil/butter mixture. Turn heat to low and cook for 25-35 minutes, stirring occasionally, until onions are well carmelized.
About half an hour before dough is ready, place a cookie sheet in the oven and preheat to 500 degrees.
When dough is ready, place on a well floured surface and shape into a large oblong about the size of your cookie sheet. To shape dough, first press it down with your fingertips, starting in the center and working outward. Then place your palm on the center of the dough and use your other hand to pull the edge outward. Turn the pizza 90 degrees and repeat, going around entire edge until the pizza is the right size.
Brush the top surface with olive oil and use a fork to prick holes all over to prevent bubbling.
Remove your preheated cookie sheet and gently lay the dough onto it. Don't worry if it loses its shape a little bit - as long as it stays flat everything will work out OK.
Return the cookie sheet to the oven and bake for 6-10 minutes, until the crust begins to brown in spots.
When crust has begun to brown, remove pan from oven and spread carmelized onions evenly over the dough, leaving a 1/2 inch border at either end. Return to oven and cook 2-3 minutes longer.
Place anchovies and olives on top of onion topping in a decorative fashion. Keep in mind how many slices you are going to make when placing these toppings.
Let cool 5 minutes, then cut into squares and serve.
Serves 6 as dinner, 8-12 as appetizer
You may not have been aware that you have been reading the blog of an award-winning chef, but now I must let the truth be known. A couple weeks ago I entered Apartment Therapy/The Kitchen's braising contest, and last Friday I found out that my dish was selected as one of the winners! I will soon be the recipient of a sunny yellow Calphalon cast-iron dutch oven, and a copy of Daniel Boulud's new book, Braise: A Journey Through International Cuisine.
The dutch oven-winning recipe was from my old standby, Cooking for Mr. Latte. On that fateful night, we were having Heather and Johnny over for dinner and I had actually planned to make some lamb chops with asparagus and mashed potatoes, a kind of dry-run for the Passover meal I was preparing for. (This was the same night as I tried out the honey nut cake.) But at the last second I found out about the braising contest. It was a perfect opportunity to try Amanda Hesser's "Component Stew," a recipe which had always intrigued me - but not enough to gather all the various and sundry ingredients it required. But the prospect of free Calphalon was enough to motivate me to scrap my plans and run out to the store.
Amanda's Component Stew was inspired by a meal at Tom Colicchio's* restaurant, Craft, at which she was bombarded by her foodie friends with tastes of 18 different dishes. Being a very opinionated eater (as well as cook), she didn't appreciate having her palate corrupted with so many random delicious foods that interrupted the gustatory path she had planned. So she created this recipe as an antidote - many random delicious foods combined into one succulent and cohesive meal.
She points out that technically this is a braise, not a stew, but she didn't feel Component Braise had a good ring to it. Personally I don't think Component Stew has a good ring either - this is food, after all, not an electronics manual. What is the difference between a stew and a braise anyhow? Both are methods that entail browning ingredients and then cooking them slowly with moist heat. But for stewing you cover the ingredients completely with liquid, while braising uses a smaller amount of added liquid and allows the ingredients to cook mostly in their own juices and by steaming.
The word braise always seems like a one of those combined words to me - like it's a combination of browning and... raising? praising? Really it should be a combination of browning and boiling but then the word would be broiling. And that means something else entirely. Plus you really don't want to boil your braise, ideally it should be kept at a bare simmer. But brimmer just doesn't seem appetizing at all. Turns out the word actually comes from the French word braiser, which means to cook something over hot coals. But... wouldn't that be grilling? Aah, who knows.
The cooking time for this braise is not that long – about one hour total, followed by an hour rest and then a quick reheat. The prep time adds another 30-40 minutes though – especially since I couldn't find cipollini and substituted pearl onions. Amanda says this recipe is about simplifying your life (??) so if you can't find cipollini you can just skip them. But this was for a contest! I wasn't going to win any Calphalon with that kind of thinking! I think it took me about 20 minutes just to peel all those stupid little onions.
She also suggests some other possible substitutions: bacon or pancetta for the sausage, which... well, where can you find pancetta but not italian sausage?? and this helpful tidbit: "If you can't get duck confit, use smoked duck breast." Well thanks, Amanda. I searched Whole Foods, and two other grocery stores, but there were no prepared duck products to be had. Unless I wanted to buy a whole duck and smoke it or confit it myself, I was SOL on the duck front. I decided to buy a pair of smoked turkey legs I found at the Cabrini Green Dominick's instead. (This was the same shopping trip as my matzoh cake meal search - which I also ended up finding at that store. You wouldn't think that the grocery store by one of Chicago's most notoriously crappy housing projects would have a better selection of Jewish foods than places in the Gold Coast, but there you go.) I only used about half of one turkey leg, but the rest made a great pasta sauce the next day, slivered and sauteed with onions and some leftover mushrooms and cream.
As soon as I got home I set about preparing my ingredients. Normally I am not so organized with pre-slicing everything and putting each ingredient in its own little bowl before cooking, but when Calphalon is on the line I can get as Martha Stewart as the next gal.
Next it was time for the browning part of the braise. I went about browning the sausage, chicken, mushrooms, leeks and onions in my trusty orange Le Creuset casserole. Maybe I haven't totally mastered the use of enameled cast iron cookware, but I often do have trouble with things sticking or leaving browned bits behind. Because each ingredient had to be browned separately, I was afraid all the browned bits left behind by previous ingredients would start burning and give a yucky flavor to the braise. So I actually ended up deglazing the pan with a little bit of broth between each round of browning. After loosening all the bits, I poured the resultant sauce back to my little container of broth, put a little bit more olive oil into the pan and continued browning. Finally, everything was browned. I laid all the ingredients in the pan, added the broth, covered it, and skipped off to clean the bathroom before our guests arrived.
The fanciest thing about this dish (besides the elusive duck confit that is) is the little sauce you serve it with. After the braise has finished cooking, you add sherry and tarragon to the juices left in the pan and swirl it around for a few seconds before decanting it into a bowl to pass at the table. The sauce was one of the best parts of this meal. She says to serve the stew over a slice of ciabbatta or country bread, but I think we ended up devouring the whole loaf with all the extra slices that were passed around to soak up more of the scrumptious sauce after all the stew was gone. We unanimously voted the name "Component Stew" off the island and renamed this delicious dish "Upscale Cassoulet." I'm not sure what was so very upscale about it since I substituted turkey legs from Cabrini Green Dominick's for the fanciest element, but any dish that takes 15 ingredients and almost 3 hours to make and wins the cook a free pot and cookbook deserves a better name than "Component Stew," don't you think?
* You may also know Tom Colicchio as the bald guy from Bravo's trainwreck/cooking show, Top Chef.
Upscale Cassoulet (formerly known as "Component Stew")
Ingredients:
2 Tablespoons olive oil
2/3 pound sweet Italian sausage, cut into 1 1/2 inch pieces
2 cups thickly sliced mushrooms (cremini, or any variety of flavorful mushroom like chanterelle, bluefoot, hen-of-the-wood)
3 thin leeks, halved, rinsed well and cut into 1-inch lengths
1 cup peeled cipollini
4 chicken thighs
Coarse sea salt or Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup chicken broth
1 fresh bay leaf (optional)
1 confited duck leg, meat cut from the bone, trimmed of fat and slivered
1 15-ounce can cannellini, great northern, or any kind of plump, creamy bean, drained and rinsed (use cranberry beans when they're in season; shell 1 1/2 cups and blanch them until tender)
2 Tablespoons Manzanilla or fino sherry
1 Tablespon chopped tarragon
4 thin slices country bread (ciabatta, if possible), lightly toasted
Instructions:
Pour 1 tablespoon olive oil into a large enameled cast-iron braiser, or similar pan (a thick sauté pan with a lid will work just fine). Place over medium-low heat. Drop in the sausage and let it sizzle away, rolling only when the sides turn color. Brown all over. If you have a splatter screen, this is the time to pull it out, as fat will be popping everywhere. Spoon the sausage onto a plate layered with paper towels.
Add the mushrooms to the pan and brown on both sides. Spoon into a bowl. The pan may be dry by now. You can drizzle in another tablespoon of oil. Scatter the leeks and cipollini around the pan and increase the heat to medium so they color a bit; there's no need to cook them through because they cook more later. Saute for about 5 minutes, then spoon them into another bowl. Take the pan off the heat.
Season the chicken on both sides with salt and pepper. Put the pan back over medium-high heat and add the chicken skin-side down. Brown well, then turn and brown the other side, about 8 minutes total. Put the chicken on a plate, then drain the grease from the braising pan.
Slip the chicken back into the braising pan and pour in the broth. The liquid should just cover the base of the pan. Add the bay leaf. Adjust the heat to low and cover the pan. Monitor the heat so that the surface of the liquid is wobbly with bubbles like a glass of freshly poured champagne. You don't want it to boil.
After 20 minutes, spread the sausage, mushrooms, leeks and cipollini, slivered duck meat and beans (don't forget to rinse off those thick can juices) over the chicken. Use a wooden spoon to gently nudge the different parts down in between the chicken. The cooking juices should be pushing up the sides but not soaking the components. Cover again, and continue cooking until the chicken is cooked through and the cipollini are tender, about 15 to 20 minutes.
At this point you can shut off the heat, cool it down and serve it the next day. If you wish to serve it the same day, I'd let it cool for an hour or so. This little rest gives the flavors a chance to blend and the meats time to reabsorb the moisture, which has cooked out. When you're ready to sit down to dinner, heat it up over medium heat until it's bubbling, then use a slotted spoon to transfer everything to a warm serving dish. Bring the juices to a boil. There should be about 1 cup (don't bother measuring); if not, add a little more broth. Taste and adjust seasoning. Stir in the sherry and let it cook for a minute, then swirl in the tarragon. Pour this into a pretty little bowl and pass it at the table, following the stew.
Everyone's place should be set with a shallow bowl. As the stew and gravy are passed, have each person set a piece of toast in his bowl. Spoon over the stew and then some of the fragrant juices.
Serves 4
I just love food porn. You know, those lascivious, moist, mouthwatering food photos that send you into paroxysms of bliss, hunger, and longing. One of my porniest cookbooks is Rozanne Gold’s collection of 3-ingredient recipes, Healthy 1-2-3. Which is kind of funny, considering that it’s a health food cookbook, usually the domain of overseasoned, unappealing stews, spartan rubbery chicken breasts, and bland steamed vegetables. But Healthy 1-2-3 is packed with the juiciest food photos you can imagine. There is one succulent-looking lamb recipe I’ve been drooling over for years – in fact, when Jorie and I lived together, I’d often suggest that we make it for dinner, and then she’d point out (again) that it was for an entire leg of lamb, and served 8-10 people. But that photo of juicy, pink lamb and plump apricots kept luring me back.
Finally, I had the perfect occasion to make it. As I mentioned a few weeks ago I was drafted by my aunt Wendy to cook dinner with my cousin Jorie for our family’s Passover Seder. As soon as Wendy emailed me, I was flipping through Healthy 1-2-3 making a shopping list.
Since we were cooking for 16 people, Jorie bought 2 pre-boned legs of lamb and brought them to her mom’s house for us to cook. As we unwrapped them from their packages, we found they were rather unevenly shaped, with a 6-inch tall chunk at one end while the rest of the meat was 2-3 inches thick. No problem, Jorie had a quick fix. She brought down a ladle and covered the meat with a large piece of saran wrap, then proceeded to smack down the lamb to even out the thickness of the meat.
Suddenly, we had attracted an audience. Cousins, aunts, even Uncle Larry’s girlfriend Kathleen had gathered round to watch the pummeling of the Pascal lamb. Only problem was, Jorie, a delicate flower of a girl who also happens to be about 7 months pregnant, was deemed too gentle to sufficiently even out the lamb. “Here, gimme that ladle,” offered Kathleen. As soon as she grasped the handle, a murderous gleam came into Kathleen’s eyes. Everyone instinctively took a step back. And a good thing too – as she raised the ladle high above the meat and brought it down with a mighty whack, blood spattered the counter. She began whacking it faster, and more furiously. We all laughed together at the vigor and enthusiasm she brought to meat tenderizing. It was like something out of a late, late show – “Tune in at 12:30 for ‘Kathleen, Mistress of Meat.”
When she was done, the lamb legs were perfectly even, and after we seasoned them and tucked a row of apricots along the center, they submissively rolled up into tidy packages for roasting. I don’t know if it was the cumin crust, the apricots, or Kathleen’s thorough meatbeating, but the lamb turned out just as delicious as I had always imagined.
Note: For very observant Ashkenazic Jews, cumin falls under the banned-for-Passover category of foods known as kitniyot. But if you have a motley, irreverent Jewish family like me, they will love it. Or else just serve it for Easter.
Cumin-crusted Lamb with Apricots
from Healthy 1-2-3 by Rozanne Gold
Ingredients:
7 lb leg of lamb, boned and butterflied by the butcher (net weight about 4 1/4 pounds)
1/4 cup ground cumin
1/2 pound large good-quality dried apricots
kosher salt
fresh ground black pepper
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 400F.
Place apricots in a bowl. Pour boiling water over apricots to cover. Let sit for 15 minutes to plump. Drain thoroughly.
Remove all visible fat from the lamb.
In a small skillet, put cumin powder plus 2 teaspoons kosher salt. Heat over medium heat for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring frequently, until the aroma rises. Let cool.
Open lamb and place on a work surface so that it remains flat. Sprinkle lamb with hafl the cumin-salt mixture and freshly ground black pepper. Place drained apricots in a long, overlapping row, lengthwise down the center of the lamb. Roll lamb tightly around the apricot filling. Using heavy string, tie roast at 1-inch intervals. Rub exterior with remaining cumin-salt mixture. Sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper.
Coat a large shallow roasting pan with nonstick vegetable spray. Place roast in pan. Roast for 1 hour and 20 minutes, or until meat thermometer reads 135F for medium-rare.
Remove roast from oven. Place on a large cutting board and let rest for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan bring 2 cups water to a boil. Pour off almost all the fat from the roasting pan and pour in the boiling water, scraping up browned bits. Strain through a fine mesh sieve into a saucepan.
Carve lamb into thick slices. Add any juices from board to saucepan. Heat briefly, adding salt and pepper to taste. Pour over lamb.
Serves 10
Although I get a lot of my recipes from cookbooks and magazines, some of my favorite meals are recipes I've learned from friends and family. And I certainly have a lot of these - not only the ones that have been passed along over the years, but a whole bunch that I gained last year when I got married. Since I love to cook, my friend Juliet and cousin Jorie threw me a foodie-themed bridal shower, complete with Iron Chef games and a cooking lesson/demonstration. And the best part was, all the guests brought a dish to share and a favorite recipe for me to keep! My friend Jennifer even went beyond a single recipe, and bestowed me a whole cookbook of her family recipes, complete with photos and a cover illustrated by her adorable kids. Who are themselves budding gourmets.
Jennifer and I met back in my previous life when we were both secretaries in a hospital. Though most of the meals we shared at work were of the arroz-con-pollo-from-the-cafeteria or chili-from-Clark-Dog variety, I knew Jennifer was a gourmet at home. She had calphalon pots and the same fancy pants toaster my toast addicted Aunt Wendy has. And it wasn't just the equipment either - the girl can cook. She introduced me to chimichurri, the delectable Argentinian steak sauce made from parsley, garlic, and a magical combination of herbs. And her cookies are to die for.
So I knew her cookbook would have some dogear-worthy recipes. And I was not disappointed. I decided to try her jambalaya recipe, one that she and her husband David have developed over the years, picking and choosing their favorite elements from the many versions of this dish in existence. Their recipe is a Creole jambalaya, since it contains tomatoes - although if you follow David's low carb suggestion and cook the rice separately, it becomes the very rare "white jambalaya." But I say, cook it all in one pot - that's the Creole way, and anyway it means less dishes to wash afterwards!
Creole or white, low-carb, or starchilicious, this is a recipe to make again and again. Jon said it was one of his favorite kinds of dinner - spicy, rich, homey, and comforting. As Jennifer says, this stew "warms the body and the spirit." And it makes a great lunch the next day, too.
Jennifer and David's Jambalaya
- 1 pound andouille sausage (substitute chorizo or spicy italian sausage if you can't find andouille)
- 6-8 chicken thighs and/or legs
- 1 pound shrimp, deveined [I prefer to peel the shrimp before cooking, but Jennifer notes that a lot of the shrimp flavor is located in the shell. If you want to get really anal you can set aside the shell pieces and cook them in a small pan with about 1/2 cup of water to make a little shrimp broth and then add the strained broth to the jambalaya pot with the shrimp.]
- 1 green pepper, seeded and coarsely chopped
- 2 stalks celery, trimmed and chopped
- 1 small onion, peeled and chopped
- 6-8 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
- 3 Tablespoons olive oil
- 1 6 ounce can tomato paste
- 1 29 ounce can diced Roma tomatoes
- 2 cups white long grain rice
- 2 cups chicken broth
- 1/2 cup fresh parsley, finely chopped
- 2 teaspoons kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
- hot sauce [Melinda's Original Habanero Pepper XXXtra Hot Sauce is a favorite at David and Jennifer's house. Jon and I like Cholula.]
It turns out I'm not the only one obsessed with cooking Amanda Hesser's recipes. I made another recipe from Cooking for Mr. Latte this weekend, Kadjemoula, which is a north African stew that she adapted from James Beard. As I was getting ready to write this post, I googled "kadjemoula" to learn more about this exotic dish, and I found the excellent and hilarious food blog, The Amateur Gourmet. Adam Roberts, the author, has blogged about at least 13 different recipes from Mr. Latte, including the vanilla bean loaves I butchered last month, and the kadjemoula I made last Saturday night.
Oddly, aside from Adam's blog and a couple other random mentions, I couldn't find much information on this dish, which is supposedly a Morrocan or Libyan stew. I surmised from one google result, which linked to a goat farm's website, that you can also make this with goat meat, but fortunately this recipe only called for beef and lamb. I actually couldn't find the lamb stew meat called for at the store, so I used a different cut which was bone-in pieces from the neck. To make up for all the bones in the meat, I bought a larger amount of lamb (about 3 pounds). The butcher lady said the bones would add good flavor to the stew even though we couldn't eat them.
The recipe, like the duck I made last weekend, was time consuming but easy. Coat the meat in flour, brown it, and then add the vegetables and broth and simmer for 2 hours. Since all those lamb bones greatly increased the volume of the stew, I had to add more broth to cover all the meat - about 7 cups rather than the 4 recommended in the recipe. All that meat and broth was too much to fit into my trusty old Le Creuset pan, so I simmered some of it in a stock pot and some in the Le Creuset, and then combined them together when the liquid had reduced enough.
Despite all these changes to the recipe, it turned out absolutely delicious. Instead of serving it with couscous, as Amanda, James Beard, and Adam suggest, I decided to serve it with a scoop of polenta. It know it seems kind of random to have polenta with African stew, but it reminded me of this delicious meal I had at a Cape Verdean restaurant on the last night of our honeymoon, this chicken stew with scrumptious cornmeal dumplings. Apparently cornmeal mush is a staple dish in West African food, so I wasn't that far off the wall.
Not that I endorse everything in West African cuisine. Do you want to know what Jon ordered at that Cape Verdean restaurant? Sardines and bananas. I'm not kidding. Take a look:
It was absolutely terrible. Apparently he thought it was going to be plaintains... but still, who wants to eat sardines with plantains?? Then again there might be those who say that prunes and cinnamon do not belong in a beef stew. But they would be wrong.
Kadjemoula
Adapted by Amanda Hesser from The New James Beard (with some changes by me)
Ingredients:
2 pounds lamb shoulder, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes (or 3 pounds of bone-in lamb stew meat)
2 pounds beef chuck, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
1/2 cup flour (more if needed)
2 Tablespoons butter
2 Tablespoons olive oil (more if needed)
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 medium onions, sliced
4 large (or 8 small) carrots, peeled and quartered
2 medium turnips, peeled and diced
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2/3 cup dried apricots
2/3 cup prunes, putted
3 to 4 cups beef broth (or more if needed to cover meat)
Instructions:
Trim fat from the lamb and beef cubes. Put the flour in a plastic bag and add the meat four pieces at a time. Shake the bag to coat the meat, then shake excess flour from the pieces as you lift them from the bag. Heat the butter and oil in a braising pan over medium high heat. Add the meat cubes, a few at a time, and brown them quickly on all sizes. As they cook, remove them to a plate.
When all the meat is browned, add the sliced onions to the pan. Stir to coat thoroughly in oil, and as onions release their moisture, scrape any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.
When onions are soft and translucent, add all the meat back to the pan. Sprinkle with salt, cinnamon, ginger and pepper. Add the carrots, turnips, apricots and prunes. Pour in enough broth to barely cover (if your pot is too small, place half the meat and vegetables in another large pot or pan and cover the contents of each pot with broth).
Bring to a boil. Lower heat and gently simmer for 2 hours or until tender. The vegetables and fruits should have blended into a thin but flavorful sauce.
Serve with a fluffy grain to soak up extra sauce - couscous, rice pilar, cracked wheat, or even polenta. If you have it, place a couple slices of quince paste or preserves at the edge of each plate.
Serves 6
Last Sunday, I finally cooked the rest of that duck I bought for Valentine's day. This preparation was significantly less laborious than my crazy Valentine's extravaganza. In fact it was quite easy, aside from having to plan far enough ahead to marinate the duck breasts and chuck the onions in the oven an hour and a half before dinner.
I made a recipe that has intrigued me for years, Magret of Duck with Roasted Red Onions and Pomegranate Molasses, from Rozanne Gold's Healthy 1-2-3. The first word of the recipe title alone was intriguing - what is a magret? It seemed mysterious to me - perhaps because I was confusing magret with Maigret, the fictional French police detective. (When I was growing up my parents were constantly reading Maigret mysteries. That and those Rumpole of the Bailey books. Unless we were on a camping trip, in which case it was nothing but Stephen Jay Gould books.) Anyhow, magret turns out to be simply a boneless duck breast.
Pomegranate molasses turned out to be a more detective worthy ingredient - I practically had to whip out a deerstalker, pipe, and magnifying glass to find some. Unfortunately I'm not familiar with any middle eastern or Indian grocery stores, because finding some there would probably have been a snap. I looked at Treasure Island and Whole Foods, my usual go-to spots for exotic ingredients. Treasure Island had pomegranate juice concentrate, but that still looked much too runny to qualify as molasses. Whole Foods didn't even have that - the only pomegranate products to be found there were POM juice and actual pomegranates. Which are cool and all, in fact I recently found out my husband loves them, but not what I needed for this particular recipe. I ended up finding the molasses at, of all places, Jewel. In the Middle Eastern section, which is of course, right next to the Jewish section. (By the way if you are ever looking for some Dr. Brown's soda in Chicago, you can find it at Jewel but not in the soda aisle. Instead, it's in the Jewish aisle! Look right next to the boxes of matzoh and yahrzeit candles.)
When I got home, I instantly had to sample this troublesome ingredient. Oooweee, it was sour! I thought the tangy, deep flavor of it would be good in a cocktail, so I looked in our "liquor cabinet" to see what we had to mix it with. By "liquor cabinet," of course, I mean, free standing cabinet from IKEA that houses our pasta, rice, oil, cat food, and assorted bottles of liquor that are left after we have big party. And I guess it's been a while since we had one, because all that I could find was some Peach Schnapps (which I used in the sabayon recipe) and a lonely bottle of Manischewitz. If I was a liquor anthropologist, I would guess that an elderly Jewish lady lived here. But in our defense, the only reason we had that sickly sweet "wine" was that our friend Zev (the potato critic) brought it as a gag gift to our Chrismukkah party. Given the choice of that or Peach Schnapps, I had to go with the Manischewitz. I thought the sugariness of the wine might be just what was needed to temper the tartness of the pomegranate molasses. I put a teaspoonfull of molasses in the bottom of a rocks glass, poured in about 2 oz of sweet, sweet wine, added 3 ice cubes, and topped it off with some tonic water. The result? Surprisingly delicious! Like a cape codder, but more... mekhaye.
The duck was pretty mekhaye too. Juicy, tangy, and rich, with the yummy accompaniment of a Spanish onion roasted in duck fat. And no tears were shed this time! A savory and luxurious way to end the weekend.
Magret of Duck with Roasted Red Onions and Pomegranate Molasses
Adapted from Healthy 1-2-3 by Rozanne Gold
Ingredients:
2 11-oz boned duck breasts with skin
2 large red onions
5 Tablespoons pomegranate molasses
1 Tablespoon brown sugar
salt and pepper
Instructions:
Remove skin from duck breasts. Set aside.
Place breasts in a large bowl. Peel 1 onion and cut in half through the root end. Grate on the large holes of a box grater to yield 1/2 cup grated onion. Add to duck breasts along with 5 tablespoons pomegranate molasses and some freshly ground black pepper. Mix thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours.
About 1 1/2 hours before serving, preheat oven to 350F. Cut remaining onion in half lengthwise through the root end. In a small nonstick skillet, heat duck skin to render fat. Ladle 1 Tablespoon of melted duck fat onto a rimmed baking sheet. Turn onion halves in the fat to coat, and then place them on the baking sheet cut side down and roast for 1 1/2 hours, turning onions over after 1 hour.
Continue heating duck skin until all fat has been rendered and the skin is brown and curled. Discard skin.
About 15 minutes before serving, remove duck breasts from marinade, scraping off and reserving marinade. In a large, nonstick skillet, heat 1 Tablespoon of duck fat (the rest of the duck fat can be saved in the freezer for another use - it's especially good for pan-roasting potatoes).
Add breasts that have been lightly sprinkled with kosher salt and cook over medium high heat for about 3 minutes on each side. Remove duck breasts to cutting board. Add some of the reserved marinade (about 1/4 cup), 1 tablespoon of brown sugar, and 1 tablespoon water to the pan and cook for 1 minute. Pour any juices that have pooled around the duck breasts back into the pan and stir to blend.
Remove onions from oven, removing any skin. Place a roasted onion in the center of each of 2 large plates. Cut breasts on the bias into 1/4 inch thick slices. Surround onion with slices of duck. Drizzle with pan juices. Serve immediately.
Serves 2
Luckily I had been planning a gourmet dinner for weeks. Last month when we went to Springfield for the football playoffs, Jorie hipped me to the awesome Food Network show, Good Eats. She and I had both made the same duck recipe for our families for Christmas dinner, and Jorie mentioned she had just seen a new way of cooking it on Alton Brown's show. I only knew Alton as the announcer from the highly entertaining Iron Chef America. But when I got back home I decided to check out Good Eats too. Turns out Good Eats is my favorite kind of cooking TV show - easy to follow, full of food science tidbits, and committed to finding the best way to cook the featured ingredient. Alton is fond of doing these kind of corny skits and gags throughout the show, but instead of being annoying, they just make him (and thus, his recipes) seem accessible and friendly, like a goofy cuisine-loving uncle or something.
Not only did I like the show, but it turned out to be the same duck-themed episode Jorie had told me about. The recipe entailed defrosting a whole duck, quartering it, brining the pieces, and then cooking them in a 2 part method: first steaming, and then roasting in a heated cast iron pan in the oven. Afterwards the pan retains so much heat you can just set it on the stovetop and cook chard and shallots in the rendered duck fat remaining in the pan.
When it ended I went straight to foodnetwork.com and tracked down the recipe.
So I bought the duck last week, gave it a few days in the fridge to defrost, and began planning the rest of my menu. I decided to make butternut squash risotto (with some frozen squash puree I had leftover from the butternut mac and cheese recipe) to go with the duck and chard. Well, that all just sounded soooo easy, I added on a second course, a sort of appetizer after the fact: goat cheese with shallot cassis marmalade. And while I was at it, how about a nice earthy dessert - vanilla bean cake.
After a leisurely romantic morning with Jon (including a delicious breakfast omelet he made!) I trekked out in the snow to Bed Bath & Beyond to buy something I needed for the cake recipe: a new flour sifter (after my old one exploded while I was making lemon curd bars). And while I was at it, I bought a bunch of other culinary toys that caught my eye, including a ritzy new 13x19 cake pan and a beautiful turquoise blue silicon rolling pin - courtesy of a generous wedding gift card from my Uncle Doug and Aunt Sandy!
Well by the time I got home from my shopping spree, it was already 2:30, not enough time to bake the vanilla bean cake before I had to leave to teach a couple of piano lessons at five til three. That would have to wait. I had already quartered my duck the morning before, deboning the breasts and freezing them for another use, and now my duck legs were ready and waiting in a ziploc in the refrigerator. So I prepared the brine of salt, pineapple-orange juice, smashed garlic, and peppercorns, poured it into the bag with the duck legs and flung it in the fridge to marinate until I got back.
At 4:45 I got home from teaching and set to work preparing the Valentine's feast. I began boiling water to steam the duck. I cleaned and chopped up chard for the vegetable. I began mixing ingredients for my cake. I sauteed onions and garlic for my squash recipe. The water reached a boil and I set the duck legs in the steamer. I began carmelizing shallots for my 2nd course. So far everything was going fine.
Then I started to hit some bumps in the road. I only had 1/2 a cup of arborio rice, not enough to make 2 cups of risotto as I had planned. OK fine. I'll just add extra squash and we'll have a small portion. Then I started realizing I had messed up some of my planning for the cake recipe (more on this in a later post). Argh! I set the duck legs in my trusty Le Creuset enameled cast iron pan that had been heating in the oven while they steamed. They were to roast for 17 minutes, so I had that much time to do damage control on the cake batter and finish my various other recipes that were all demanding attention on the stovetop.
17 minutes of chaos later, I took the duck legs out of the oven. And instead of lifting effortlessly from the pan as they did on Good Eats, the skin stuck like glue to the bottom of the pan. My eyes filled with tears. "JOOOOOoooonnnnnnnn!! Everything's ruined!" I cried. "I spent all this money on these ingredients and I'm ruining evvv.reee.thiiiinnnnnnnnnnnngg!!!"
He ran into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me, and said, "Oh, come on, Babe. What are you talking about? Everything smells delicious! I'm sure it's fine."
"You don't even know!! I wrecked every part of the meal! And you gave me such a wonderful present this morning! I feel like crap!!" I whined.
"Don't be silly. This meal is going to be fantastic," he said, kissing my head.
Thank St. Valentine I have a patient, tolerant, and understanding husband. He went back to the living room and I cursed loudly as I scraped and wrenched the duck legs from the pan. I just tried not to look too closely with them as I set them on a plate and tented them loosely with tin foil. I dropped the chard and some minced shallots in the searingly hot pan and gave it a few listless, sulky stirs. I finished off the shallot cassis marmalade and set it aside. The chard was ready to serve and the duck and the squashy risotto were as good as they were going to get.
I went into the dining room and set the table with cloth napkins and our big fancy steak knives, poured a couple glasses of a nice Shiraz I had picked up at the store, and lit a pair of pretty pale pink candlesticks. In this setting, rather than the messy, hot, chaotic kitchen, the food didn't look so bad after all.
And you know what?
It tasted divine.
Steamed and Pan Roasted Duck Legs with Swiss Chard
adapted from the Food Network's Good Eats with Alton Brown
Ingredients:
Brine:
1/2 cup kosher salt
1 pint pineapple orange juice
15 whole black peppercorns
1 bunch fresh thyme
4 cloves garlic, smashed
2 duck legs, with bone and skin intact
[You can also make a whole duck using this recipe. Simply follow Alton's instructions for quartering and cooking the whole duck, found here. All you need to cut up the duck is a good pair of kitchen shears. Just make sure if you are quartering the duck yourself that you give it plenty of time to defrost. If it is not fully unfrozen when you are ready to cut it up, just place it in a bowl under cold running water for 15 or 20 minutes.]
2 handfuls shredded chard
2 shallots, minced
Dash sherry or balsamic vinegar
Combine all brine ingredients in a plastic container with a lid. Place the lid on the container and shake to dissolve the salt.
On the thigh of each leg, lay a serated knife flat against the skin and make 3 marks in one direction and then in the other, making a triple X pattern. Make sure that you are cutting through the skin and not the meat. (This will allow excess fat to drain out as you steam the duck.)
Line the inside of a pot or large tupperware with a zip-top bag. Place the duck legs inside the bag, and pour the brine over the duck. Seal the bag, ensuring that all air is removed from the bag. Brine the duck for 2 to 2 1/2 hours in the refrigerator.
Bring 1 1/2 inches to 2 inches of water to a boil in a large pot. Place a colander or steamer tray into the pot and place the duck legs in it, in a single layer. Cover and turn the heat to medium low. Steam the duck for 45 minutes.
Set oven to 475 degrees F. Place a large cast iron skillet into the oven. Remove duck pieces from steamer and place legs, skin side down, into the hot skillet. Place the skillet into the hot oven immediately and cook the leg quarters for 17 minutes or until the duck takes on a deep mahogany color and the skin is very crisp.
Remove the duck from the skillet and rest under foil. [I still don't know why my duck stuck to the pan. It might have been that I used an enameled cast iron pan rather than the regular, seasoned kind. Or maybe it was just bad luck or some other mistake of technique that I failed to notice. Whatever the case, if by any chance your duck legs stick to the pan, rest assured that they will still taste delicious and look fairly presentable. And hey, any duck skin that stays in the pan reduces your fat and caloric intake for the meal!]
Add the chard and the shallots to the skillet. Toss the chard in the fat until it barely wilts. Season with the sherry or balsamic vinegar.
Serve the duck with the chard.
Serves 2
